


Served Faithfully

by Edie_Sunshine



Series: Just Two Guys [13]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Season/Series 04, Smut, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:19:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edie_Sunshine/pseuds/Edie_Sunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on Season 4....</p><p>Beta'd by Spacebabe</p><p>Title comes from an Ani Difranco song, lyrics in the notes</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In his head, Juice tells Chibbie right away, the minute he gets out of the sheriff's office, Roosevelt's clumsy threats still loud in his ears. 

And in his head, maybe Chibs comes looking for him after that first meeting with Roosevelt or maybe Juice sits and waits for the guy to come home. Or, maybe Chibs is home already and Juice turns up in the middle of the pouring rain, the secret scratching so hard on his insides that Chibs notices and nags until Juice tells him and like that, it gets fixed.

And in his head, Juice doesn't have to take the brick, or rat on the club, or kill Miles because no one fucking cares what he does, or what his club do. And in his head, Michael Howard Cole remains nothing more than a bump in the road. 

Unfortunately, Juice doesn't actually live in his head. 

He lives in the real world. And in the real world, at the first sign of trouble, his instinct tells him it's his fault, he's on his own and no one else is gonna help him. 

In the real world, the R.I.C.O Act is a noose every law enforcement agency in America seems to want to use on the Sons, and they tried it on Opie and Chibs and it never fitted. But now they've tried it on Juice, and it's a perfect fit and they can yank him out of his life whenever they want to, and Juice has to lie to his brothers and do as he's told.

In the real world, Stockton is like some huge fucking wall sprung up between him and everyone else, and although he wants, more than anything, to reach out to his brothers, to Chibs, the wall's too high to climb over and too big to go around.

In the real world, there's this little brunette chick Chibbie was screwing while Juice was in jail, and she's nice, in a chirpy, trashy kinda way. Not nearly smart enough for Chibs, definitely no equal to Fiona. But, she was there when Juice wasn't, and now he's back, she's showing no signs of leaving. 

She's another part of that wall.

In the real world, Chibs has his mind elsewhere and he isn't Juice's any more.

&&&

Juice looks down at the Men of Mayhem patch held in one hand, the needle and thread in the other. He looks at the bead of blood staining one perfect corner, and knows he's lost it all. Lost everything he'd ever dared to think he had.

Once, a long time ago, Chibs had walked quietly into the chapel, asked the guys for their time and explained that an ATF agent was trying to get him to rat, threatening his wife and kid. The Sons had all listened, understood. 

When tested, Chibs had come good.

It's impossible to imagine what soul searching the older man had gone through to make the right decision, without any help, without any counsel. Just sheer strength of fucking character. The guy had done the same thing when Juice had been hurt, gone into Jax and thrown himself on his sword, offered to give up his cut. The strength of a man who could survive being kicked out of his own country, losing his family and rebuilding his life somewhere else.

It's not a strength Juice possesses. 

Roosevelt had opened that file and there he'd been, Michael Howard Cole, the worst kind of bad news. The sheriff had opened that file and Juice had known this was the thing that was going to ruin everything.

He couldn't risk the others finding out about his father and he let Roosevelt bully him into taking the brick, and then he killed a brother to cover it up.

And after what he's done, there's really only one way to fix it.

Juice takes the tow chain from the lock box of the pick up, hefts it in his hands. It feels cool, like calmness itself. 

The calm of a thing already done and over with.

&&&

Eight days ago, Juice stepped out into the bright daylight and swaggered, with his brothers, down the fenced-in walkway that led to the rest of the Sons and their waiting bikes. 

He had felt Chibs' eyes, hot on his own and resisted the temptation to push through the mass of bikers to bury himself in the guy's arms, made his way instead, from one hug to the next until finally, Chibs filled his vision and wrapped his arms around him. 

Under the cover of a rough hug, the older man had cupped the back of Juice's neck, murmured against his ear.

'Let's get you home, eh?'

And, hours later, when most of the brothers had gone home with their wives and girlfriends, Chibs had cornered Juice in the club toilets, locked the door and backed him against the wall. 

He'd been solid and perfect and Juice had felt like he could maybe put the loneliness and paranoia of the last fourteen months behind him.

It had been strange, letting another man that close to him after his time inside. Juice had felt like all the showers in the world weren't going to get the prison soil off his skin, but right then, it had felt like it was just the two of them alone in the world, and nothing was ever going to get between them again.

Then Bobby had knocked on the door, yelling for Chibs and the older man had sighed, yelled back. He'd cupped Juice's cheek in his palm, pressed another kiss to his lips.

'Pick this up later?' 

And dumb with the lovely soft perfection of it, Juice had only been able to nod.

And then the door was unlocked and Chibs was gone.

And two hours later, Juice had watched Chibs and a pretty girl with almond eyes and a low voice, seen the glances from one to the other.

Well, duh, a nasty little voice in his head had said. 

He knew that smile, gentle and open, knew what it meant.

&&&

Kid never answers his fucking phone. Chibs stabs the hang up button with his thumb. He's damned if he knows what's gotten into Juice. 

Prison's odd, it messes with your head in ways that can't be explained. Chibs had known that the time would hit Juicy hard, lad's nervous and paranoid at the best of times and being shut up twenty-four-seven with guys who are big and mean and bored and horny really wouldn't have helped with that. 

Serving that sort of time, everything becomes a commodity and Chibs doesn't really want to dwell on what currency Juice used. Kid's cute, he'd have stirred up interest and Chibs knows that the last time he was inside, the others had used him for bait. 

Nothing had happened, but still, once sets a precedent and if the club had decided the lad needed to take one for the greater good, he'd have done as he was told. 

It had been lonely without Juice. On the rare visits when it was just the two of them without any other club members, it had still been awkward, Juice sitting there like his own little island, fenced in and shuttered. 

Their conversations had dried to a stilted back and forth with nothing said that actually mattered and long, cavernous silences. Chibs had started avoiding visits so he didn't have to see the lad so quiet and guarded.

And when Juice finally got out, eight days ago, he had been skinny, like he'd been eating shitty food and working out too much. His eyes had a tightness to them, the wary stare of a guy used to watching his back.

He'd been jumpy, tense in Chibs' arms but he had welcomed their first kiss in fourteen months like it was some sort of gift, a little of the tension bleeding out. 

Chibs had folded the lad in his arms and Juice had sighed against his throat.

'I missed this,' Juice had said and Chibs had felt it like a sucker-punch.

But, then the day had opened out before them and Chloe, this little chick he'd fooled about with a bunch of times, had needed a ride to Opie and Lyla's wedding and of course, he's too much of a gentleman to say no. 

She'd broken the heel on her shoe and had to wobble around, holding onto his arm for support and he'd laughed his fucking arse off. 

It had been nice, though, being at a brother's wedding with a pretty girl on his arm. Sort of uncomplicated, nothing needing hiding. Not like something he wanted all the time but, just for a little while, knowing that the evening was gonna end bloody, it was nice to play normal.

Course, within a few hours, Putlova's crew were in pieces and Chibs was staring at the blood streaked up the walls. He'd looked across at Juicy and seen the nausea rising in the young man's throat, and he'd felt an overwhelming sadness for the lad. 

His first kill.

Chibs remembers the first time he killed someone, it had nearly finished him. It's not what he's ever wanted for Juice.

He'd driven them home after, the lad untouchable beside him. 

Inside the house, Juice had turned and pinned him against the wall, his eyes shuttered but desperate.

'Let me blow you?' 

The lad had slid to the floor before Chibs had a chance to say anything, and Chibs had almost forgotten what it was like, getting head off another guy, forgotten that Juice just knows.

Juice's hand had been frantic on his own cock, but he'd been silent around his mouthful where, once upon a time, he'd have been groaning and mewling his pleasure.

Chibs had pulled him to his feet, held him close. Wanted to tell him it would be okay, he knows it's all to shit right now but it'll get easier. 

He didn't have the words though. Kissed the lad's temple instead, hoped that Juice would just get it.

'Stop trying so hard,' Juice had said and it brought Chibs up short.

&&&

Chibs had flinched like he'd been slapped, his eyes hardening and he had pulled away, hauling his jeans up.

'Getting a beer. You want one?' He'd stalked over to the kitchen, leaving Juice feeling unsteady on his feet.

'Sure.' Juice had tipped himself over the back of the couch, laid back against the cushions and stared around the room. A bunch of his stuff seemed to have made it out of storage and into Chibs' house instead. On the mantel piece, the cactus Juice's little sister bought him years ago, and curled up on the easy chair, the ugly cat Juice had run over and then adopted. 'Did you steal my couch?'

'Borrowed, Juicy. It's better than mine.' Chibs had handed Juice a beer, shoved him aside and rested his booted feet on the upturned packing crate that served as a coffee table in Chibs' house. 

'We okay?' Chibs had asked and Juice had looked at him and thought, how can we be? 

'Sure. I'm just tired.'

'Well, let's get you to bed then.' Chibs had taken his beer off him and pulled him to his feet. It had been easier not to argue.

They'd lain there like a couple of tombstones, until finally, thinking Juice was asleep, Chibs had snuck back downstairs and Juice had watched him go.

&&&

Bobby makes a leadership challenge and Chibs thinks to himself, really? Are you fucking retarded? 

Clay demands that all brothers be brought in to vote tonight and no one has a fucking clue where half of them are. 

It's left to Chibs and Opie to track them all down, and of course, Juice doesn't answer his phone. 

&&&

Juice struggles to get the chain fastened around his neck. Now that he's made his decision he feels strangely calm, like it's fucking done already. He's past it. 

He remembers that song, Billy Holiday, maybe, about the bodies hanging from trees after the Klan had got 'em. Juice isn't descended from that, not really, he's never thought of it as his history, but that story, just the idea of it had given him nightmares.

He thinks about what it'll be like for whoever finds his body. Out here, on Oswald's land, it'll most likely be one of the prospects. Fucking horrible for anyone, but better than it being Chibbie, last thing he wants is to do that to the Scot.

It's the strangest feeling, a tightening that goes on and on and like someone drowning, no matter how much you want it, you fight it all the same. His legs kick and flail, trying to find purchase on thin air.

The world starts to curl in at the edges, blackening like the pages of a burning book. The weirdest sound comes out of him, rabid dog on a choke chain, trying to get free. He thinks to himself, someone let that fucking dog out!

&&&

Chibs takes Tig with him. He's got this odd feeling, deep in his belly, like his insides have been flushed with ice water. Something's not right with the lad and Chibs should have kept a closer eye on him.

&&&

Juice hears a cracking sound and then his body learns to fly, and for a second there is nothing but the rush of air. Then a crash and a thump and the forest is looming up around him, dark and terrible. 

His throat is on fire. He has no idea what to do, what to think. Then there's a new sound, a gravelly roar and Juice knows immediately what it is, fights his way to his feet.

&&&

Of course, Chibs spots the bruises on his neck, even in the pitch dark. Guy's got eyes like an owl. Juice knows Tig's fallen for his story, but he also knows that if he looks at Chibby, he's going to see doubt. 

He can't look. 

He has no choice but to drive back to town with the pick up. 

Chibs isn't at the house when he gets in.

&&&

Chibs has no idea what he's doing here. 

Chloe's front yard is a mess of kids' toys. She smiles shyly when she sees him through the screen door, takes his hand and leads him past the closed rooms where her kids are sleeping to the bedroom out back. 

She sits him down with his hands in hers and tucks her head in beside his so he can lose himself behind the curtain of her hair.

He shouldn't be here. He should be with Juice, finding out whatever the hell it is that's wrong with him. But he can't. Not when the lad didn't come home the night the brick went missing, not when the lad has been frantically texting some person and then lying about who it is. Not when the lad hasn't been able to look him in the eye since the day he got hauled in by the cops.

&&&

Chibs knows. Juice is sure of it. The guy's eyes track him everywhere and they're narrowed, like he's seeing something Juice is trying to hide.

Last night, Juice had lain awake, listening for the other man, but there'd been no sign. Chibs had either decided to stay at the clubhouse, or he'd gone to Chloe's. 

Maybe it's for the best. Juice knows he can't be relied upon. He's a rat and a murderer and Chibs'll be better off without him.

Course, the day is a disaster from the outset: bagful of heads tossed into the yard. Juice is tasked to help clear up the mess and the feel of the things, cold and hard, is about as far from a real human being as can be. Juice sees Miles' face again and again on each of them, feels sick clogging his throat. 

'Come on, you're with me,' Chibs snaps and Juice has no way to refuse.

&&&

Those Galindo fuckers decide they need the Sons for cannon fodder when they go up against the rival cartel, and Clay fucking agrees to it. 

The barn is crowded with club members, all grim faced and tense as they wait for it to kick off. Chibs looks around at the others and he thinks, this is gonna be carnage. True enough, none of them are strangers to violence and at least three of them have served in the military but they're none of them soldiers. 

He looks at his brothers and he thinks, is this the last time I see you alive? Is this us, our final hour? He looks at Juicy and the lad's eyes are huge, his body hunched over like he's trying to disappear inside of himself. Chibs doesn't believe in any of that blaze of glory shite. Dead is dead.

Only way to get through this is to tell yourself you're tough, act like nothing can touch you. Hovering like you're some poor excuse for a human'll only get you cut in two. 

He gets hold of the lad, gives him a shake but Juice doesn't seem to notice he's there.

&&&

The truck's empty. Loaded only with the dead bodies that go with the heads Juice helped to get rid of earlier in the day. 

Juice wants to feel relief. Wants to feel that clean, fresh joy at still being alive. He feels only numbness.

He shakes Chibbie off, heads back to Oswald's, where his noose is ready and waiting.

&&&

Chibs finds Juice out at Oswald's. Even without the chain at his feet, the expression on the lad's face tells him everything he needs to know.

Juice is weak as a rag under his hands, lets Chibs shake him and does nothing. 

Chibs looks at him and he feels bile rising, hot and cold. Sees something pathetic and small, a snivelling wretch who just happens to be wearing Juice's face. 

He wants to strangle him, to say how fucking dare you, you selfish prick! 

How dare you even think about leaving?

How dare you try to leave me here to find you and cut you down and cry over you and bury you?

He looks at Juice and he sees that he's not the same man that went to Stockton, not the man he's been missing for the last fourteen months. That Juice would never have done something like this, would have known, understood what it would do to Chibs. 

Would have cared enough to stop.

&&&

Juice can't think, he can't speak. He lets Chibs throw him to the ground and lies there. He's felt ashamed before but not like this, not like everything he's ever done, every wrong and dirty secret is inked on his skin. 

Chibs' disgust is neon loud. 

&&&

Chibs can't just leave him there. 

Lad's not thinking straight, that much is clear. 

He picks Juice up, dusts him off, tells him he'll be okay, and gets him home. He can't bear to look at him.

Juice doesn't say much, just watches as Chibs gets a blanket and a pillow off the bed to take downstairs.

'Get some sleep, eh?' Chibs says 'We'll sort this out in the morning.'

Chloe sends him a cute little text: #u ok?# and a bunch of sad little faces all made up of the punctuation characters. Chibs has zero understanding of how to do stuff like that, marvels that anyone might have sat there and thought it up. 

He thinks about replying. He thinks about just going 'round there but then, he gets this little tugging feeling pulling him towards the darkened bedroom he doesn't want to go back into. 

He compromises. Doesn't go to Chloe's but also doesn't go upstairs.

He settles in for a long night on the sofa but he's woken a few hours later. It's still dark but there's just enough moonlight coming in through the window for him to make out Juice's form, wraith-like and silent on his knees beside the couch. 

'Can I?' 

Juice's fingers are cold and hesitant on Chibs' arm. Chibs wants to roll over, go back to sleep, maybe wake up later and find this was all some Dallas dream shite and the real Juice is in the shower, using Chibs' soap and bitching about the smell. 

But, he could never deny this man anything and so he shuffles himself over, lets Juice climb onto the sofa beside him. For a long moment Chibs just looks at him. In the moonlight, filtered through the blinds, he can make out a darkening ring of bruises around Juice's neck. They're matched by the dark circles under his eyes.

He remembers once upon a time, finding Juice hanging lifeless in a warehouse. Remembers cutting him down and breathing into him, praying that the breath would catch and spark, bring the lad back to life. It had, of course, but for weeks afterwards, Chibs had woken from horrifying dreams in which he got there too late, or hadn't found Juice at all, or that he'd been forced to watch while those AB arseholes had tortured and killed the young man. 

He looks at the lad now, tiny and lost and silent, and he feels like something is breaking. 

&&&

Chibs is silent beside him, running his fingers over the tightness of Juice's forehead. Juice wants to tell him he's sorry. He wants to tell him about the sheriff and Miles and the fucking brick. He wants to curl up and just have someone take it all from him, take it away and make it all better. 

He wants there to be no chick and no Stockton and no wall between them. 

He settles for the warmth of the Scot's lips against his own. 

Chibs startles, glares, and Juice knows he's fucked it up again. He thinks, please don't say no, please don't send me away yet, just let me have this.

&&&

Juice is coiled tight like a snake around him. His skin feels snake-cold as well, as if he really is a wraith, has lain all night in the cold, that chain tight around his neck. 

Chibs gets the lad under the blanket with him, tries to rub some warmth into his arms but Juice isn't interested. He kicks his way out of the blanket and pushes his shorts to his knees. He rolls onto his belly and tugs Chibs over him.

'Come on, it's okay.' Juice's voice sounds like he's a million miles away. He shifts his legs apart and Chibs settles between them. 

There's no lube. 

They used to play rough sometimes, before Stockton. Juice fighting back and wriggling away, Chibs pinning him down and just fucking nailing the lad to the floor. It had been fun, the two of them rolling in sweat, working each other into a noisy frenzy. This isn't like that.

That Juice had been sparkling with mischief and demanding and bossy. This one is a million miles away, untouchable and cold.

Chibs rolls away, stares up at the ceiling and when Juice realises nothing's gonna happen, he struggles to his feet, fumbles around for his shorts and pulls them back on.

'Hey, come on, don't go.' It even sounds half hearted to Chibs' own ears. 

Kid shakes him off. 

He pauses on the middle step, though, moonlight bathing his body but leaving his head in shadow. His voice sounds so small.

'Babe? I'm sorry I let you down.' 

He disappears back into the darkness before Chibs can say anything.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, Juice finds Chibs in the kitchen, cup of tea and a cigarette, just like old times. Chibs says nothing when he sees Juice, just looks, his gaze working its way through him. 

'What are you gonna do?' Juice's voice sounds as scratchy as it feels. The kitchen is cold and he wraps his arms around himself, glad of the sweater he's pulled on, hood up. 

Chibs gives a little one sided shrug, drains his cup.

'Dunno. Called Jax. He'll meet us at TM...'

'Right, right.' Juice blinks it all back, the fear and the knowledge of what's gonna happen next. He'll be voted out. Maybe it's for the best. If he's out, he can't give up any more information. Maybe.

'Hey, come on.' Chibs gets to his feet and then pauses, his face softening a fraction. 'It'll be alright.'

It won't. They both know it.

&&&

There's not much of a wait. Jax pulls up at TM and makes his way to where Chibs and Juice are waiting. He's got his serious face on.

Chibs remembers bringing shit to Jax before. VP can be a hot-head but he's his father's kid and he has a kind of deep wisdom that fucking scares Chibs sometimes. 

Once, he had told Jax about him and Juice. Told the man and let him decide what to do with the knowledge. Jax had asked him to swear that he'd never put this thing with Juicy before the club, and Chibs had been unable to swear it. Had told Jax that it wasn't a promise anyone could make and mean. 

It's strange how things have changed. Chibs looks at Juice now and he knows that loyalty to one is not loyalty to the other. Once more, the club comes first. He looks at Juice and he knows there's something the lad's not saying, something that doesn't add up.

He asks Jax to let him watch Juice for a bit, figure him out. And, perhaps because of the thing that Jax still thinks lies between them, the VP agrees. 

&&&

Juice gets pulled in again and this time, the sheriff and his buddy show Juice their little war room and he finally realises how far he's been played. 

There's a roaring sound in his ears and then his fists connect with something and the sheriff hits the floor and it should feel good, finally losing it and hurting the person who's screwing with his life, he should feel the rage bleeding out of him, like he always did when he used to lose it as a kid. 

It doesn't though. It just feels pointless and stupid. Punching this guy, hell, killing this guy, wouldn't be enough to fix this mess. They'll just keep sending more.

Juice is just an ant, trying to push back against an army of giants. He's not smart enough to fix this.

They lock him in a holding cell and leave him there, and all the TV in the world won't stop the thoughts in his head. He'd thought it was bad, it got worse. He'd thought it was worse, it got worse than that. Now he can't even do the right thing and tell the others and let them kill him. He's gonna end up in jail, the club disbanded, and all of his brothers will want him dead. 

He dreams that Chibs walks him out into the woods, his face cold. 

He dreams that the older man shoves him to his knees, holds a gun to his head. 

He dreams that the man's gun hand is shaking and he's asking him, why, why did you do it, Juicy? 

He dreams that he looks up, holds Chibs' hand steady with his own, tells him it's okay, do it. 

He dreams that someone else comes over, pushes Chibs gently away and pulls Juice to his feet. 

It's Happy, because it's always Happy. Happy who does the stuff no other Son can bring himself to. 

And Juice is glad that Happy's gonna do it so that Chibs won't have to. 

He watches as his lover is led slowly away and then Happy's hunting knife fills his vision and it's red and red and red.

&&&

They let him out and Juice comes up with some stupid story about having ridden up to Yosemite to get his head straight, and it's amazing how easily he can lie to Chibs now. How the Scot no longer looks at him and sees his stupid thoughts printed on his forehead. 

That brunette chick is at the clubhouse again, flicking her eyes at Chibs. She's pretty and accommodating and everything that Juice isn't. 

He's almost happy for the guy. Least he's got someone to look after him now. 

&&&

The Galindo men get the bodies stacked up and Juice doesn't want to know if they'll get a decent burial or not.

He can barely see straight as they ride back to Charming, short a brother. This is the second time he's had a Son's blood on him in the space of a few days and it's a guilty kind of stickiness that threatens to smear everything in its wake. 

Kozig had disappeared in a flash and there hadn't been much left to bury. Juice can't get the sound of the guy's hand thudding to the ground beside him out of his mind. A heavy, wet sound, not the way part of a person should sound. 

He's always suspected that God was a bit of a bastard, and seeing someone as loyal as Kozig going out that way, when Juice was still alive, had been proof enough of that. 

He doesn't remember the walk back across the minefield.

Chibs backs Juice into the cubicle and shuts the door behind them. His movements are calm, like he's thought it all through and knows everything. He probably does.

Juice can see it all clearly: The shallow grave, his own broken body. Chibs, bloody and heartbroken. 

Juice tries to get his shit together, tries to convince Chibs he’s okay, but he gets about half a sentence in and he can’t do it. And Chibs just puts his hand on his shoulder and says: Tell me. So Juice does. He tells him about Roosevelt, about his fucking useless fuck up of a fucking father, and Chibs bursts out laughing.  


'Is that it? That why you tried offing yourself? Jesus Christ, boy!'

&&&

Chibs' heart is racing, relief flooding through him like some dam bursting. 

Lad's not a rat, not a thief or a murderer. 

He's just daft. Just his daft, stupid, wonderful Juicy. He looks at the lad, who's laughing at himself for being an idiot, like he always does. 

It's typical Juice, he agonises over stuff and makes it mountainous in his head, and he's always so shame-faced when he gives up and just says what's on his mind. And then it recedes back to a molehill and they go back to being two idiots fucking each other silly.

He gets hold of the lad, feels the bones poking through where he's got too skinny and Juice holds on like he's holding on for dear life.

'Hey.' He pulls back a little to get a proper look at him. 'You tell that sheriff, next time you see him, he can go and suck your daddy’s big black cock, and there’s not a goddamn thing he can do to you,' he tells him and then they're both laughing and Juice is back in his arms again and it's all okay.

He leaves the lad to pull himself together, to take his meds, and goes back out into the bar. The others are shuffling around, unhappy. He doesn't bother joining them, just grabs a bottle to keep himself company, takes his thoughts over to sit on the sofa.

He's a fucking idiot. All this time, Juice has been turning himself inside out, dealing with being out of jail, Putlova, Miles, that fucking sheriff, and instead of taking care of him, Chibs has been doubting him and shagging some tart. 

When he gets done beating himself up, he's gonna find a way to make it up to the lad.

He loses track of Juice again as the afternoon bleeds into evening and the clubhouse fills up with hangers on and wannabees. Chloe's amongst them, but he gives her the brush off and goes looking for Juicy. There's no sign of him, though. 

He heads home in the hope of finding him there. 

Home. The place he filled with Juice's stuff because he couldn't bear to be without it and then couldn't bring himself to spend time in. He used to go there to feed the cat and then sleep at the clubhouse or at Chloe's instead. 

Juice isn't home.

Chibs wanders the empty rooms and hates how silent it is. 

He doesn't have to fight to sleep in the big empty bed, though, because Jax calls him: Clay's been shot.

Chibs gets to spend a tense night in the hospital waiting room, anxiously waiting for news. When he's not dealing with Tig's guilt, he tries calling Juicy, thinks to himself, what if whoever went after Clay is going after other members of the MC?

These are not thoughts to have at three in the morning with no booze to drown them.

&&&

They pull Juice in again and it's almost a relief. He knows now that the club's gonna go down, that Roosevelt has been a busy little law enforcement agent and probably has a file as big as a truck on Samcro. He knows that there's nothing he can do to stop it, not even his own death would stop it. 

Chibs'll be at the meet with the Irish- the Sons joke about needing him to translate, but the truth is, the Scot brings something to the relationship. It's not trust or understanding or brotherhood, guy fucking hates them, it's more that he knows them, counsels Jax on what they're thinking, how they work. Chibs'll be there, he'll get pulled in and once he's done jail time, they'll deport him. 

Juice tries to imagine Chibbie returning to the UK, turning up on his mom and dad's doorstep, or on Fiona's. The thought of Chibs so far away, of this world without him... 

Not that it'll matter to Juice. He'll be dead once the club finds out what he's done. 

&&&

Juice is gone another night. This time, with Clay hurt, Chibs finds he wants to be with his brothers and spends the night at the clubhouse. He wakes to the smell of coffee, Jax standing over him with a mug of the wretched stuff.

'Figured you could use this...' Jax says, grinning at the bottle of Scotch Chibs must have kicked over at some point. 

Fucking waste. 

The kid takes the mug away when he realises Chibs isn't touching it, seats himself on the adjacent sofa. 

He looks about ten years older than he actually is. 

Chibs checks his cell phone, for about the billionth time. 

Nothing. Of course.

'He okay?' Jax frowns and Chibs knows he understands who it is he's thinking about, doesn't condemn him for not worrying about Clay.

'Not heard from him since yesterday. An' he wasn't home last night.' 

Jax just looks at him and Chibs knows he's let his VP down. Said he'd keep an eye on Juicy. Failed.

They go out to meet with the Irish Kings later on that day and Chibs is once more reminded of the space that has grown between himself and his old home, his former brothers in arms. Bunch of wankers, thinking they know everything, own everyone. 

There's a text waiting for Chibs when they get done.

#Got yr mesags iz clay ok?#

In spite of everything, Chibs feels something in him lift at the sight of the lad's shitty spelling. He hits the call button.

'Juicy, where the fuck are yer?' It's perhaps a little harsh. 

Juice is silent for a moment.

'I... They raided the weed shop, I got pulled in. I'm okay. I'm at the house. I was gonna go see Clay and-'

'No. Fucking stay put. I'm coming over there.'


	3. Chapter 3

Juice is sitting on the doorstep, looking like a cat waiting to be let in.

'What happened to your key?' Chibs asks. 

Juice shrugs. 'Didn't seem right...' 

Lad's an idiot.

They get in the door and it's stifling hot inside. Probably just right for Juicy, but Chibs has to get the back door open before he suffocates. 

Juice follows him, hovers by the counter and fiddles with a little pile of change someone, probably Chibs, left there. 

He stacks the coins in size order, discards one and it sits alone on the counter next to the pile: god save the fucking queen, Chibs thinks. Normally when he finds English coins mixed in with the rest of the shrapnel in his pockets, he spits on the queen's head, flicks them in the trash. He has no idea how they work their way into his pockets in the first place.

'I should, uh... I'm gonna get my stuff together an' take it to the clubhouse,' Juice says and Chibs thinks, what? 'It's okay. You gotta... Gotta do what makes you happy.' 

Chibs has to strain to hear him, is sure there's a catch in the younger man's voice.

'Juicy, what you on about?'

Juice gives a one-shouldered shrug. Chibs has always been able to read Juice's various shrugs, been able to tease the meaning out of them. This time though, he draws a blank.

'That what you want?' 

Juice looks up at him for a beat and then the switch flicks and his lip curls, blood rising to the fill line. The little leaning tower of pennies goes flying across the kitchen. 

'Don't fucking put this on me! Don't you fucking-' he goes quiet again, turns as if to go and fetch his stuff and then suddenly, Chibs gets it.

'Hey, hang on a sec.' 

Chibs gets a hold of Juice's arm and the boiling point is reached again. Juice's forehead is like a demolition ball on Chibs' sternum, making him stumble back. Chibs tastes blood in his mouth, spits it into the sink. Now he's pissed off as well.

'Fuck's got into you?' 

'Here, let me see-' Juice is at his side, fussing over finding the source of the blood. 'It's okay, you just bit your lip.' He grabs a cloth from where it hangs from its little hook over the sink, checks that it's clean and runs one corner under the tap, presses it to where Chibs' lip feels like it's swelled to the size of his nose. It fucking stings.

'Look.' Now he's got something to fuss about, Juice's voice is controlled and reasonable once more. 

Chibs hates the reasonable voice, fucking hates it. The reasonable voice means that Juice has got it into his head that two and two is seventeen, and there's no way in hell you're gonna tell him it's actually four. 

'Look man, it's okay, I get it. She's... I dunno, nice an' I can't...' Juice sighs, takes a breath and it sounds like he's fixing the breaks in his voice again. 

'What happened to you?' Chibs asks around the stupid cloth and Juice swallows hard, Adam's apple doing a quick curtsey. He doesn't answer. 'Hey, tell me.' 

You can't make Juice do anything he doesn't want to do. You can't make him listen when he's in his own little World of Angsty Shite, and you certainly can't talk sense into him when he's made up his mind about something. Fuck-all point, trying. 

Chibs shrugs the dish cloth aside, whispers his lips over Juice's instead. It stings but that doesn't matter.

Juice starts, like he's surprised, but Chibs gets one hand up into the small of the younger man's back, where the skin is always damp with sweat, and the tip of his tongue finds Juice's lower lip and Juice just gasps, all the fight gone out of him.

Then, Juice's are hands fumbling with the zip on Chibs' jeans, the younger man crowding him against the sink. Chibs shifts, turns them both and coaxes Juice up onto the counter top so they can slide together, closer, closer, closer, and Juice goes willingly, wraps his legs around the other man's hips.

Between the two of them, they get Juice's t-shirt off and then Juice's hands manage to find their way into Chibs' jeans. Chibs runs his tongue in a filthy line down from Juice's lip, down the arch of his neck. His fingers find and pinch a nipple, rolling it and worrying at it, making Juice groan and writhe, lift his hips off the counter and Chibs takes the hint, tugs the jeans and shorts down so Juice is naked where it counts.

Having Juicy naked on the kitchen counter with the back door wide open and the neighbours wrestling with their fucking tomato plants in their back yard is a really bad idea. 

Who fucking cares?

Juice is gasping and grasping and Chibs just wants in, right now, like this, with Juice fidgeting and hot and trying to be quiet. 

Trouble is, they've got Juice's jeans down to his ankles and they won't go any further, not when the lad is wearing combat boots that lace up and mother-fucking-Christ, Chibs is not gonna sit there patiently unlacing them, not when Juice is rummaging in a kitchen cupboard to his left and coming up with a bottle of cooking oil. Not when Juice is fighting the lid off and the stuff is going fucking everywhere. Not when Juice is shifting to scissor his own fingers into himself, lips still lapping blindly at Chibs'. And not when Juice has got his slicked up fingers all over Chibs' cock and all Chibs can think about is how hot and slippery the lad is gonna be.

Chibs pulls back and gets Juice turned around so he's bent over the counter and his booted feet are just barely grazing the floor and then he's in and Juice is biting down on the back of his arm so the neighbours won't hear.

&&&

The smell of cooking oil fills the kitchen and it's crazy and stupid, and the neighbours are right outside, and that really should matter, but it doesn't. All that matters is pushing back, and finding the right rhythm, and the right spot, again and again and again. 

Juice presses one hand against the counter top to stop his poor cock from getting crushed against it, but aside from that, he doesn't even want to spare a thought for it. He just wants that feeling, full and stretched and tight, Chibs' cock coaxing his orgasm out of him with insistent strokes. 

If this is the last time they're gonna do this, Juice is gonna make it count.

Chibs' hand finds his mouth, so Juice thinks he must be making more noise than he'd realised. He gets hold of one of Chibs' fingers, sucks hard and then bites down and Chibs swears, takes what feels like a chunk out of his shoulder in retaliation, and then Juice is arching and coming, and for about twenty seconds, the world is a beautiful, wonderful place. 

They wind up in a heap on the oil slicked floor, lie there panting and listening to the neighbours arguing in their yard. 

Chibs chuckles against Juice's ear, something about those idiots needing to get a life. He fidgets like he's gonna move away, and Juice has to halt him with a hand at his hip.

'Stay?' he whispers and Chibs pauses, cranes to look at him. 

Juice closes his eyes against the cool, greasy floor, loves the feeling of the other man still inside him, their skin stuck together. 

Right now, it's just like things used to be. The two of them ignoring the world. It won't last though. Soon, Chibs' will come down from the afterglow and his mind will start wandering. It'll return to Chloe and an easy life without Juice. 

Juice holds the other man's arms tight around himself, focuses on memorising the feel of him. Making it count.

&&&

Chibs can't remember the last time Juice was this contented in his company. It makes him feel like maybe he can make up for being a dick for the last few weeks when Juicy needed him. 

He presses a kiss to the shoulder nearest his lips, worries over the skin with his chin until Juicy grimaces and shoves him off, then he gets the lad turned in his arms, his cock sliding free with a wet pop. 

Juice fidgets for a moment and then seems to relax. His legs are still all tangled up in his jeans and boots.

It's a stretch, but Chibs can just manage to reach and push the door shut, keep the breeze out and stop the younger man from getting cold. 

He roots around, finds Juice's shirt and balls it into a pillow, shoves it under Juice's head and looks his fill. Juice looks sleepy and disgruntled. It's a good look on him. 

'What?' 

And that's it, isn't it? Because Chibs doesn't have the words, or, not the right ones anyway. 

'Cat can look at a king,' Chibs says, because he's a shit and Juice will give him that creased, mystified look. 'Or a queen.'

'Fuck off.' 

Juice lies back, arms stretched out over his head. He sounds pissed off but if you know what you're looking for, there's the faintest ghost of a smile. Lad almost looks like his old self. 

Chibs worries at the soft skin on the inside of Juice's upper arm, the Chinese script tattoo'd there. He's made fun of it many times, teased Juicy that it probably says 'this idiot let me tattoo him in a language he doesn't understand'. He strokes over the skin now and he thinks to himself that he's getting as bad as Juicy for not being able to just come out and fucking say what's on his mind. 

'Meant what I said earlier. You can tell me anything.' 

Juice groans, slides one arm down over his face. 'Fucking Christ, Chibbie-'

'Hey, stop hidin' from me.' Chibs pushes Juice's arm aside and pins it there.

&&&

Juice has spent the last god knows how long wishing he'd just told Chibs everything, kidding himself that if he told him, Chibs'd solve it. It's an indication of how crazy Juice's head has been these last days that he's gifted the man with a magic wand. Because that's what it'd take to make all of this go away. 

Trouble is, Juice knows that Chibs wouldn't be able to fix what Juice has done but he'd die trying. Chibs has already been asked to promise to put the club before Juice, no matter what and he'd refused, said it was a promise no one could make. 

Juice knows that if he tells Chibs about the brick, about Miles, the guy will do anything to protect him, and he'll hate himself for it. Probably hate Juice as well. 

Some day it'll all come out and Chibs will despise him, so will the rest of the club. But Juice isn't gonna have the man hating himself as well. He's not gonna be one more thing Chibs sits up drinking to forget.

'Chibbie, it's okay-' 

Chibs cups Juice's face in his hands, holds tight, till Juice's jaw is aching and he daren't look away. 

'Look, you don't get to check out, alright? You think your life's gone to shit, you fucking tell me. You tell me an' we fix it. You don't fucking-' Chibs voice goes all tight, like there's something blocking his throat. 

Juice can't look at Chibs when he's like this, doesn't matter that Chibs has seen him bawling like a fucking girl about a million times in the last few days. Juice cries, it's just a thing that happens. It's what you do when you grow up in a tiny apartment with a mom and three sisters. Never mattered how many times his step dad smacked him for being a pussy, something big happened and Juice's eyes would start to burn. Chibs isn't like that though. If Chibs is upset, it's fucking bad.

'-You don't leave, alright? You don't.' 

'I'm sorry,' Juice says because really, when it comes down to it, that's all he can do, apologise. For the shit that happened while he was inside and the claws it's still got hooked in him, for his stupid fucking dad and being too dumb to realise how little it mattered, for the way he let himself be played, for taking the brick and killing Miles and giving up the location of the meet with the Kings. He can't tell anyone though. All he can do is protect Chibs and the others from it, limit the damage. 

He gets their positions reversed, shoves the makeshift pillow under Chibs' head and kisses him long and slow, dovetails their heads and cuddles him close and Chibs' stuttering breath calms. For a long, lovely moment, there's just quiet. 

It won't last. Chibs'll gather himself back together again in a minute, dig him in the ribs, or make some off-colour joke. 

'Hey.' Chibs is watching him, eyes wary like they were back in the Doc's house when Juice was getting his stupid leg stitched up. Like Chibs wants to trust him but needs to be sure. 

'No, it's okay baby, I'm not... It's okay, I get it... Chloe seems nice an-'

Chibs drops his head back onto the kitchen floor and it makes a loud thunk. 

'Fucks sake! Would you give over?' 

Boom, Juice thinks, Chibbie is back in the room! 

'Why are you fretting about pussy, eh? When are you gonna get it through your thick fuckin' skull-' 

Juice finds himself back on the linoleum floor, looking up at Chibbie, his hands pinned over his head. 

&&&

Chibs lets go of Juice, sits up and busies himself with untangling the stupid laces on the lad's stupid fucking boots. It's that or strangle him. 

It's like banging his head against a brick wall sometimes, dealing with Juicy. Never says what's on his mind, paranoid and werreting over nothing. He's worse than a fucking chick. 

And now, the lad's fretting about some little bit of skirt! Fucks sake, lass gets him a beer when he wants it, laughs at his jokes an' nicks his cigarettes. She can't drive a car and didn't even know that you play real football with your fucking feet!

'Chibbie?' Juice's voice is curious as he watches Chibs down the line of his own body. 'You know you're talking out loud, right?'

Well, no, he fucking didn't, thank you very much! 

Chibs gets the laces untied- well, one untied, the other, pulled apart with brute force and teeth- gets Juice pinned down again, and Juice does this little gasp and wriggle combination that makes something stutter and contract in Chibs' chest and he has to take a moment to just watch and appreciate. 

And then Juice is reaching for him and they're all over and lost in each other and even though Chibs really isn't up to a second go this quickly, he'll happily help Juice into a sweaty and gasping mess. And Juicy is all limbs and tongue, pliant and sweet and lovely. And Chibs is reminded that he really can't be without him for this long again.

&&&

The bedroom is quiet. Just the ticking sound of the shower dripping into the tub. Juice opens the crumpled file and stares at it.

He hadn't looked too hard at the picture when Roosevelt had shown him it, hadn't needed to.

Mike's not his dad, not really. He's not the guy Juice grew up getting yelled at by. He's just the fuck-up mom had two kids with before she lucked out on Juice's step dad. 

Juice had managed to lie to Roosevelt, told him he'd never known him, but the truth is, he knows him all too well. 

Back when he was growing up, your house got burgled, you didn't call the cops, you asked around if anyone had seen Dad. 

Junkies rob houses, it's really that simple. 

He remembers one Christmas Eve, all the excitement-shaped parcels wrapped up under their shitty fake tree. Juice had already known what his was, though, had overheard his mom telling a neighbour. 

Optimus Prime. 

Fucking awesome!

She must have scrimped and saved all year from her three shitty cleaning jobs to pay for it. 

They got back from midnight mass to find the apartment door a mess of plywood and glass. Bits of fake tree and tinsel strewn all over the floor. Weird looking gap where the TV should be. Presents gone. 

No Optimus Prime. 

Sheriff Roosevelt had opened the file and it was like dad was there again, taking everything that's good and turning it to shit. 

Juice's step dad was a jerk. Still is. But he'd never pull anything like that. Mike has no place in Juice's life and he's not gonna mess things up for him ever again.

&&&

'We havin' a ceremonial burning of that then?' 

Chibs watches from around the door as Juice tears the file Roosevelt tried to blackmail him with, in two. Kid keeps the photo of his da to one side, though. It'll end up in the little tin box he keeps under the bed, the one that contains the few pictures Juice has of his mother. It was one of the things Chibs made sure didn't get lost when Juice's stuff went into storage.

The lad looks up and grins. Freshly showered and dressed, he's at ease, happy. It's about fucking time! 'Sure.' He gets up and walks straight into Chibs' chest, wraps his arms around him and presses a kiss to the centre before frisking him for his lighter. 

'Come on, let's not burn the bloody house down, eh?' Chibs slings one arm around him, hauls him downstairs to find a bin that's not made of fucking plastic.

They need to get going soon, they're expected at church at eight o'clock. Juice looks nervous, as well he might- Jax would be within his rights to tell the others about his suicide attempt. Juice could still be kicked out of the club. 

Chibs can't say anything to reassure him, can only hope and pray along with him. 

There's stuff the lad's not telling him, still. Whether it's things that happened in Stockton or something else, who knows. Chibs wishes Juice had told him everything from the start, but he can't really be too surprised that he didn't.

He hovers at the back door as Juice starts up a little bonfire in the empty rubbish bin, adds page after page of the police report that Chibs is never gonna read, to the flames and watches them burn. 

Before Juice's year in Stockton, Chibs would have just walked over and slung his arms around the lad, hugged him close. Now, though, now he knows to be wary. Juice is still jumpy and Chibs has a head-shaped bruise from that blow to his chest. 

He compromises, takes his beer over and stands next to the lad, doesn't shift closer until Juice takes the bottle off him, tugs him over and then he can slide his hands around Juice's middle, hold him back against his chest. 

Juice sighs and slides one of his own hands over Chibs', holding them in place. 'This okay? The neighbours might-'

'Nah, fuck 'em. Serves 'em right for looking.' Chibs presses a kiss to Juice's shoulder, gives him a little squeeze. 'Jesus, we gotta get you fattened up...' Lad's all elbows and ribs. 

Juice snorts, tension leaching out of him. He turns his head, presses a kiss to Chibs' cheekbone and goes back to watching the fire. 

'You know there's stuff that I don't wanna-' Lad's voice is soft, hesitant. Chibs just nods, doesn't trust his own voice when Juice is quiet like this. 

'I just... You don't have to worry, it won't happen again.'

'It better fucking not.' And this is why Chibs had been right not to trust himself. Harsh words, needled out like a threat when he should be gentle, understanding. He hugs the lad closer in the hope of taking the sting out of it. 

'When-' He stops, swallows, thinks, are you really gonna say this? He tries again. 'Back in Ireland... my first kill. Lad of my age, an' it nearly...' 

Chibs remembers the boy's face- before and after. Pale skin, freckles and a shock of curly ginger hair. Blue eyes. You put two bullets in the back of someone's head at close range like that and it makes a fucking mess of their face on the way out. There had still been red hair but the freckles were hidden under a mass of blood and brain matter, and the blue eyes were just gone. 

'Chibbie?' 

Juice is looking round at him, fingers worrying over the back of his hand. Chibs buries his face in the lad's neck, lets the warm smell- engine oil, weed and minty chewing gum- ground him.

'Aye... I'm alright. Just... I've been there, alright?'

&&&

Juice fiddles with a thin scratch on the back of Chibbie's arm.

He wishes Chibbie really had been there. And yeah, Chibs has killed before, but not like Juice has. And he hasn't lied and he hasn't betrayed and he hasn't ratted. The confession rises in Juice's chest and he has to fight to keep it inside. 

Maybe all of his brothers have a secret like this, dark and fearless and scratching on their insides like a cat wanting to be let out. Maybe Clay and Tig and Piney... they've all done things they can never admit to. 

It's a comforting thought. It's not the first lie Juice has told himself. 

He blinks smoke out of his eyes, fishes in his jeans for his cigarettes and realises they're still upstairs. 

'Here.' Chibbie gets two cigarettes out of his own pack, puts them both in his mouth to light them and then hands one over. Juice inhales deep, feels the secret choking, going up in smoke. 

&&&

Juice's hands are shaking around his beer bottle when Jax steps into the clubhouse, their new Club President. He doesn't know where to look. 

Chibs gets to his feet almost immediately, follows the Prez into the chapel, steadfast and secure. 

Juice hangs back, thinks, what if this is it? What if Jax turns him away, tells the others? Then he thinks, he's faced worse, these last days. They've each got their ghosts, their secrets. Juice doesn't feel good about having gotten away with it, isn't gonna kid himself that it's never gonna come back to haunt him, but right now, in this moment, he's okay. It's a start.

He steps into the chapel, finds he's able to look Jax in the eye.

'You okay?' Jax asks him and Juice is able to smile, say yeah, he's gonna be okay. He feels Chibs' eyes, the way they watch him without seeming to and he thinks, yeah, it's all gonna be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Served Faithfully by Ani Difranco
> 
> he caresses every bottle  
> like it's the first one he's had  
> saying  
> it ain't love  
> but it ain't bad  
> it's the only reward  
> bestowed upon me  
> and i have served faithfully
> 
> i can see he is scarred  
> from doing some hard time  
> but i let alone what is broken  
> 'cause it isn't mine  
> he strikes out at me  
> when i am within reach  
> then he reaches for me  
> when i draw the line
> 
> sometimes it seems like love  
> is just a fancy word for compromise  
> you gotta read between the years  
> you gotta write between the lines  
> you gotta try to understand  
> the grandness of the man behind the petty crimes  
> and let him off easy sometimes
> 
> i have only just met  
> an old old friend  
> we've been walking around holding hands  
> i hope some day he can bend  
> as far as it takes to understand  
> and risk breaking open again


End file.
